Gaza Beach: A Refuge Amal Abukwaik
Most people know Gaza as a headline in the news or as a marketing tool for donations; my family and I know Gaza by a people. By people who have lost nearly everything yet exuding generosity, by new buildings constructed after each war as a sign of their resilience, and by the late nights spent with family and neighbors on the baranda drinking shay with sage. My favorite memories of Gaza are the times I spent at the beach. As a child, my cousins and I would play with a ball in the sand with other children, or take turns riding the camel near the water.
These scenes, on the surface, are not unlike any other vacation spots. The sun is shining; the wind is blowing. Parents are relaxing on the shores; children are playing in the water. However, there is something deeper happening here. Gazans use the beach as a means of a reprieve from their trauma and worries. They see the ocean and the mina as a reminder of their economic prosperity in the past, during
times of peace, and the one part of Gaza the Israelis can never destroy. No matter how powerful and advanced their weaponry is, they will never be able to stop the waves from hitting the shores of Gaza. Still, all of the man-made structures are crumbling to the ground. From this, they learn to rely on God and His power, for if they relied on the buildings, where man’s hands are involved, they would have stayed amongst the rubble. Of course, three wars within ten years and an air, land, and sea blockade for 13 years has visibly affected a land smaller than Passaic County in size. So, it is not shocking to me that “war,” “orphan,” and “siege” immediately cross people’s minds when they think of the Gaza Strip. Yet, I have never seen more beauty in a land than what Gaza has shown me. Just like the Palestinians’ resistance against their oppressors, Palestinian land resists against manmade destruction.
Artwork by Mohammed Alhaj IG: Mohammed.alhaj.000
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